Key of Stars

by Bruce R Cordell

  Don’t think about that yet.

  Haunting screams and obscene fragments of chant washed across her. Anusha could almost make out the words. She allowed her attention to drift up, over the broken shell of Green Siren.

  Mist cloaked everything, but it wasn’t opaque—she could see for what seemed like a mile or more. The ground beyond the shattered craft was blotchy soil and stone, gray and green. Crystalline growths pocked the rock, as did tidepool-like catchments of brine. Slick phosphorescent trails stretched randomly across the earth, sometimes leading straight, other times winding into tighter and tighter spirals.

  Anusha recognized the trails. Aboleths made them. Anxiety spiked the intensity of her headache. Just knowing one of those quivering bulks, or something even worse, could slide into view any moment was hardly bearable.

  The mist blocked easy vision after an indeterminate expanse, but she was still able to make out towering shadows in the far distance.

  A fissure in the mottled ground zigged and zagged away from the starboard side of Green Siren. The fissure’s sides followed a rise in the ground up to what appeared to be the rim of a low caldera.

  A pile of broken beams near her shifted.

  An iron hand pushed a beam up. Debris fell away, revealing Yeva.

  “You’re alive!” said Anusha.

  “I suppose so,” mumbled the woman.

  “Gods, I thought everyone was killed when the ship fell.”

  “I have some new dents, that’s certain. And something’s pinning my legs. Give me a hand, will you?”

  Anusha pulled on Yeva’s proffered limb. The pain in her head complained, but she heaved. With a snap, the metal woman broke free from whatever had caught her.

  Yeva stood up. As she’d said, her carapace was dented and scratched. Her left arm was bent so that it no longer dangled true from her shoulder. “If it’s not soul-trapping ice, it’s crashed ship debris, apparently,” she said. “Thanks, once again, for pulling me free.”

  Anusha smiled. “Of course,” she said.

  “I’m afraid Mharsan didn’t fare as well as I,” said Yeva. She wiped at some red fluid that stained her torso.

  Anusha let her mouth fall open, unable to speak. The blood was evidence of what she’d already assumed, but seeing it in such quantity made her drop to her knees. If she’d been awake and in the flesh, she might have sobbed.

  Yeva took in the surroundings. Her features were immobile, so Anusha couldn’t read anything in them. She imagined Yeva felt as vanquished as herself.

  “What’s this?” said Yeva, indicating the protective casket with a nod of her head.

  “I … I spun it up to save myself from the fall,” replied Anusha.

  “When did—”

  A groan interrupted the metal woman.

  Something farther out on the deck moved beneath a fold of torn sailcloth.

  “Stay here,” Anusha told Yeva. Another survivor meant she could stop thinking about Mharsan. “I doubt what remains of the floor can support your weight.”

  Anusha rose and walked on the shattered deck to the sound’s source. She flipped aside the fold of stained cloth.

  Thoster lay tangled in a heap of uncoiled hawser. His left leg was bent at an angle that was not natural. Blood soaked his clothing. A gruesome cut traced a ragged line down his face and neck. He moaned again.

  Anusha put a hand to her mouth. It was amazing he’d survived at all, but it was obvious Thoster wasn’t long for the world.

  Though … She couldn’t see any other injuries besides the broken leg and cut. But his insides must be hardly better than jelly—just as her body would have been without her dream casket.

  Wait. The cut on the man’s face wasn’t as deep as a moment earlier. She frowned, then gasped as the ragged flaps of the wound curled together to form a red seam of scar tissue. Then even the scar faded, leaving behind smooth skin and a scattering of green scales.

  “It’s Thoster!” she yelled back to Yeva. “And he’s … he’s regenerating!”

  At the sound of her voice, the man’s eyes snapped open.

  “I hurt. I really, really hurt,” he said.

  The captain sat up suddenly. He jerked his broken leg out of its unnatural position, and howled at the unexpected agony.

  Anusha put her hands on his shoulders to steady him. He grimaced, then looked at her. His eyes widened with recognition.

  “Anusha, lass!” he said. “I remember now—we followed Xxiphu through the waterspout in the air. What does …” He trailed off as his eyes took in the wreck of Green Siren.

  “On my grave, she’s gone,” he murmured.

  The awful sounds emerging from the mist made a dirge to the craft’s final mooring.

  “Captain—,” Anusha said.

  “Don’t call me that,” Thoster interjected. “Ain’t my title any more. I’ve lost my ship and my crew.”

  Anusha looked down. “It wasn’t your fault—”

  “No, not true! I brought them here, didn’t I? They’re all dead, and I’m responsible.”

  She didn’t know how to respond. She recalled seeing several crew spiraling out into the void before they passed through the discontinuity—those might still be alive. For a little while, anyway, until they died alone in unending darkness.

  She decided not to voice that conclusion. Imagining such a fate made her heart ache.

  Thoster put his face in his hands. She couldn’t imagine what thoughts were going through his head. All those who’d looked to him as their captain, dead. But it really wasn’t his fault—it was Malyanna’s.

  “They deserved better,” murmured Thoster.

  Anusha had no answer. Of course they did. It was an awful, tragic thing. It was too much to hold in her head. She didn’t want to witness the desolate scene, yet here she was, a part of it. In fact, as much as Thoster was responsible, so was she. She’d wanted the captain to move the ship closer to the floating city so her dreamform could reach Xxiphu. If the ship had been farther away, the crew would be alive, and they’d be safely sailing the Sea of Fallen Stars.

  Yeva called, “Something’s happening!”

  Anusha looked around. Was it getting darker?

  Thoster rubbed at his face, then said, “The song is back.”

  A shadow like a giant’s finger pressed down through the mist above them. A single digit, massive in width, stretching up who knew how far. The air shuddered in concert with a basso rumble climbing up from inaudibility.

  A fitting end to this ill-fated voyage, Anusha thought. Smashed into paste by the idle finger of some alien demigod.

  She recognized the shape as it came clearer through the mist. They’d stared at it long enough from where they watched it on the Sea of Fallen Stars.

  Xxiphu descended. Only at the last moment did it become clear the city wasn’t going to land on them. Instead, it settled itself into a nearby caldera. It dropped so smoothly into place, like a hand into a custom-tailored glove, that it must have been from where the city originally hailed.

  Silence. All the noises that had earlier echoed across the plain were quiet. It was as if the entire place waited with bated breath.

  Xxiphu’s sides stretched back up into the mist so far that its top, and the Eldest who squatted there, were hidden from view.

  Thoster raised himself to both feet. His leg, the one that had been broken only moments before, supported the man’s weight, though it trembled.

  Anusha was at a loss for words. She heard herself ask, “So, you can heal yourself now?” Her voice sounded frail.

  “Must be another gift from my polluted heritage,” Thoster said. “I didn’t know about it.”

  “Of course not …,” Anusha replied.

  He cocked his head, listening.

  “What?” she said.

  He nodded. “The aboleths are satisfied to return to their ‘roost,’ ” he said.

  He put a finger to his lips and leaned closer, “Someone comes,” he whispered into her ear. />
  Anusha raised her eyes to the towering obelisk’s zenith.

  Thoster raised a finger and pointed much lower.

  Light flared in a cavity pocking the city’s face. The opening was equal to the level of the crater rim Xxiphu rested in. Silhouetted in the glare were several figures, made tiny with distance. They emerged from the opening, and moved down the side of the pitched mound. Two were people, and one was a blot of darkness in the shape of the hound. Anusha supposed they were Malyanna, Taal, and Tamur the shadow mastiff.

  Several aboleths squirmed from the cavity. A couple flew into the sky, and took up wide circuits like vultures over dying prey. Two more aboleths emerged, but they remained earthbound. They were hitched to a gnarled shape: Carnis, the Traitor.

  “They’re coming nearly straight for us,” whispered the captain.

  So they were. If they continued on their present course, they’d see Green Siren splayed across the ground. They might ignore it as a wreck. Then again, if they investigated …

  “We can’t attack, if that’s what you’re thinking,” whispered Thoster. “I can barely hold myself up, let alone grip my sword. Assuming I can find it in this mess. I need to rest …”

  Anusha’s pounding headache reinforced the captain’s statement. Hiding was their best option.

  If only the mist were thicker.

  Maybe it could be. Anusha concentrated, and pain smote her like a flail across the back of her head.

  No. It was too much. She had pushed her ability beyond the limit, even for hiding.

  “Stay here and be quiet,” Anusha said.

  She crept back to where Yeva waited. The iron woman watched the procession grow closer.

  “Any way you can conceal us?” Anusha asked.

  “I’m already trying,” Yeva replied.

  Anusha squinted. She saw that the mist around the ship did seem thicker than before. She glanced at Yeva. One of the woman’s hands was raised to her metallic temple.

  The mist continued to thicken, so much so that Anusha finally lost sight of the approaching group.

  Noises of something approaching easily penetrated the mist, though everything sounded slightly muffled.

  Anusha heard a woman say, “Careful! Don’t let it bump so much! If you break off a piece, I’ll make a new skirt from your hides!” That had to be Malyanna.

  “I don’t think they care,” a man replied. Taal’s voice, probably.

  “They don’t, Taal, but don’t be pedantic,” came the woman’s voice. “It’d be a shame if they broke off the piece of Carnis holding the Key.”

  “That would be a shame,” said Taal’s voice. Even through the fog, Anusha thought she detected a sardonic tone.

  “Are you testing me, Taal?” Malyanna asked. “Here, so close to the goal we’ve worked so many decades to see fulfilled? Because if so, I can see this task through to its end without you.”

  The mist swallowed whatever Taal said in return. The procession had moved past Green Siren and its lurking survivors.

  After another few moments, Yeva slumped. The cottony white that surrounded the ship slowly peeled away.

  Malyanna and her troupe once again resolved in the mist, but they were receding across the plain. The aboleths swimming through the air above them apparently had no interest in the detritus of a broken ship. Soon enough, distance would swallow them.

  And then what? They were shipwrecked in a place so far from the world that most of the Wise probably didn’t know of its existence.

  Without anyone to stop her, Malyanna would apply the Key to whatever foul gate she had in mind for it.

  “No,” Anusha said.

  “What?” asked Yeva.

  “We have to go after them,” Anusha said. “We may be hurt and tired, but we have to try and stop them before they reach the Citadel of the Outer Void and the Far Manifold. It’s what we came here to do.”

  “How?” said Yeva.

  “I don’t know,” Anusha said, annoyed. “But they’ll be out of sight soon. We’ve come too far, sacrificed too much, to stop trying now.”

  The captain made his way across the ruined planking until he stood with Anusha and Yeva.

  “I heard what you said, Anusha,” he said, his voice tight. “I’m in. I got a debt to pay them. Vengeance for my ship. Even if it means my death, I owe my crew at least the attempt.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Anusha said.

  “Don’t mention it,” he replied. “Now, if I could only find my sword.”

  Yeva put a hand back to her temple, then pointed. “There,” she said.

  The captain raised an eyebrow, but followed her directive. He bent and lifted away a section of sailcloth. His golemwork sword lay revealed. And stuck in a crevice between two collapsed barrels … “My hat!” he said.

  “I wonder if I should leave my body here,” mused Anusha. “The dream capsule should stop anything that comes sniffing around.”

  “No, bring it,” Yeva said. “We might go far enough to strain the limit of your link. Can you modify this encasement to give it handles? I can pull it behind me like a sledge.”

  Anusha bent to the armor protecting her body. She was tired, but maybe she could manage what Yeva asked without collapsing … Yes! Two stanchion-like handles formed at one end of the capsule.

  “You have incredible power, lass,” said Thoster. He nudged the armored case with his foot, moving it several inches. “Even in the short time I’ve known you, your abilities have waxed. A useful curiosity has become something quite different. You’re fashioning ‘real’ things out of nothing.”

  “I suppose,” Anusha temporized.

  The captain was correct, if she stopped to consider it; creating a solid object out of dream that waking people could interact with was something she wouldn’t have earlier even attempted. If she could make a case to protect her body against a great fall, what else could she make? She shook her head; the headache made it hard to think straight.

  “And what about you?” Anusha finally replied. “You’ve got something strong in your blood, and now we find out that even a fatal drop only slows you down.”

  The captain’s somber features didn’t change, but he nodded.

  “Our enemies are receding,” said Yeva. “We need to go now.”

  They lowered Anusha’s case over the side.

  Without another word they set out in the direction Malyanna had taken. The eladrin had gotten so far ahead it was only just possible to see the aboleth that circled overhead—the mists had swallowed Malyanna and her companions.

  The ground was alternately gritty and smooth, and they walked around the catchments of salt water bordered by white crusts. Yeva pulled the armored capsule with relative ease. Her iron muscles apparently didn’t feel fatigue.

  The space was vast and shrouded by coiling vapor. Only the shadows of massive, distant towers were visible, stretching away in all directions. Anusha wondered if each shadow was akin to Xxiphu, and she shuddered. It was like being in a cathedral built for gods. Even giants would feel dwarfed striding through the columned expanse.

  Before Green Siren slipped out of view behind the veiling fog, Thoster paused and turned. He doffed his hat.

  Anusha and Yeva waited. Anusha felt a lump in her throat.

  “Farewell, my Green Siren,” Thoster said. “Farewell, my crew, to whatever destination your souls have found. You served me well without too much complaint. You were merry in our victories, and you put your back to it when the seas were rough. I will avenge you. We’ll meet once more, I promise you all, though never again in this world.”

  All the feeling she’d tried to bury washed back over Anusha, and she had to turn away. Her dream armor offered no protection from the grasping briars of grief that squeezed her heart.

  Thoster bowed his head a moment, then he turned and continued through the mist.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The Year of the Secret (1396 DR)

  Over the Edge

  A cold wind
blew out of the void, sending Japheth’s cloak streaming behind the chariot in dramatic emphasis. The armada pushed forward. Glittering motes, like a bonfire’s embers, swirled beneath them in a turbulent lane stretching away through the void.

  Dayereth pointed. “There, you see?” he said. “Detritus from Xxiphu’s passage. The city impacted more than a few of its own as it hurtled back through this gods-damned abyss.”

  “Those lights are, what, carcasses of aberrations Xxiphu ‘ran down’?” said Japheth.

  “Just so,” replied Dayereth. “And fragments of the Watch’s magical defenses too, I imagine.”

  A sudden pall of stinging dust seemed to appear out of nowhere. “By the Nine, that tastes foul,” the warlock muttered.

  “Just as the bulwark of the natural world reacts when aberrations stream in from the void, the void reacts to our presence in such numbers,” Dayereth said.

  Black clouds boiled up ahead of them, blotting out the handful of pale stars. The sight was horrifying.

  The eladrin wizard grinned from ear to ear.

  Idiot, thought Japheth. Clearly the man hadn’t seen more than the inside of his private playpen in the past century. The wardens should have let the knights and wizard-warriors out more. He wondered how Dayereth would have fared during the fight with the aboleths they had faced in Xxiphu’s crown chamber. Probably he would have laughed maniacally until an aboleth grabbed him with an enslaving tentacle. Then he would have soiled himself.

  Japheth glanced at Raidon; the monk was studiously looking away from the eladrin. It was obvious that Dayereth was getting under Raidon’s skin too. Japheth chuckled.

  The chariot bucked suddenly. The warlock tightened his grip on the iron pole nearest him.

  The vanguard of griffon-mounted knights swept wide beneath the boiling clouds, though a few directed the golden beams of their lances into the thunderhead’s belly. Where the light touched, lightning was born.

  Their own chariot, pulled by the relentless flapping wings of their steed, went up over the clouds instead of beneath.

  Japheth watched the boiling clouds as they passed over them. Flying through such emptiness made his stomach feel slightly off. Looking down at the immaterial vapor of the ebony clouds as they strove to climb above them didn’t help.